My finger hovers over the end call button and he nods. “Wait. Is it two or three for the wedding?”
My phone rings, and it’s Charlie, the building’s night doorman.
“Gray, gotta go.” I hold up the phone. “It’ll be Crystal and me. Bye.” I hit end before he can ask any more questions.
Mia’s visit is quick with Tripp, her husband, double-parked on the street. She’s ready to give birth any day now and yet she’s helping me out. Guilt pinches at my chest when I close the door behind them.
She has always been good to us and loves Crystal like her own. I’m so grateful for her friendship. Next to Janet, my housekeeper/nanny, Mia’s the only other person in Manhattan I trust with my kid.
And while life is busy, I’m fortunate to occasionally get a night to myself. Sometimes, Crystal will sleep over at a friend’s, or at times like this when work is crazy, Mia will take her for a few days or even a week at a time.
I’m on my own for the next seven days. Outside of filming, I’m free to do whatever I want…but I won’t skip out of my life, not even for a night, like I did recently.
That was wildly unexpected. A night of pure pleasure.
No, I’m not doing that again. It could be habit-forming although not something I’d want to do with just anyone. I’d only want a repeat if it was with her. Whoever she is.
Over the past week, since that fateful night, during slices of solitude my mind wanders back to her…to my one-night stand.
Shit. A one-night stand. I can barely wrap my head around the word. I’m no longer that guy. Yet, it was all me last week, alone and craving something…something different.
Frustrated with fruitless dating and no end in sight, I wanted off the merry-go-round. All my dates were the same. Barely halfway through dinner, I’d be mentally deleting their numbers.
Yes, I wanted out of my life. Just for a moment. A night.
And Christ, that’s exactly what I got.
A chance meeting with a gorgeous woman. We never said a word; the connection was elemental and happened on an intrinsic level.
I fucked her in a private restroom.
The sex…fuck me, the sex was phenomenal.
But that kind of behavior isn’t how I find a life partner. No, and I can’t think about that now. It’s in the past. It was a fantastic escape, but that’s all it is.
Focus. My call time is obscenely early tomorrow, and while all I want to do is sleep, I have work that will get me closer to my dreams.
Acting is relatively new to me with a little more than a year under my belt, but my true desire is to direct films. I’m tired of the in-your-face fame and would love to move from in front of the camera to behind it.
Fortunately, there’s a deal in the works where I’d direct an indie film, and when Mia came for Crystal, she also left the contract for me to look over with her notations.
I settle at the kitchen table and read through the document. It doesn’t take as long as expected and I feel pretty good when I’m getting into bed at close to eleven.
Before I can turn off the lights, my phone pings and I swipe at the screen while sliding under the covers. It’s a notification on the dating app with another like and comment. This woman is interested in a date and wants me to message her.
Groaning, I close the app, set my phone on the side table, and hit the button on the lamp, plunging my room into darkness. I already have a date set up this week with someone new.
Her name’s Felicity, and she’s made her money in textiles—or her family has, although she does work for the company. When I invited her out, I’d been looking forward to it.
Despite my early call times this week and previous disastrous dates, I still have hope. I’m holding out for my dream woman. But now, in the dark, fatigue weighing on my chest, the idea of another first date is daunting and unappealing.
For all of Crystal’s eight years of life, it’s always just been the two of us. We have a great life and if things stay the way they are, we’d be good. My life would be fulfilled and happy.
I don’t need a woman to complete me. But…I want a family of my own.
Crystal is my world, and I’ve got my ex-band mates, Gray, Silas, and Jared, and their partners…they are family. But I want the whole nine yards.
My childhood was good and stable with great parents who loved each other. And while my career doesn’t easily afford a normal lifestyle, whatever that is, I want my daughter to have the stability and family I had. And someday, I want more kids—brothers and sisters for Crystal.
Even before the dating app, I’d had ample opportunity to meet women. That isn’t my problem. The problem is finding someone who wants me not for what I do, but for who I am.
Very few are interested in the single dad who was born and raised in LA by average, hard-working parents. And at first, I thought the app might be the solution since most women on there are also public figures or wealthy.
I was wrong. Wealth, reputation, and prestige are all important to them. Because of their public status, none are looking for an average Joe. Not that I could fully claim to be one.
And I’d hoped the app would weed out the star chasers, but judging by how things are going, my rising star or time with the band is my most admirable quality to my dates.
I can’t seem to get past my public persona and it sickens me. I’m not expecting perfection, but I want real. I want someone who is kind-hearted, loving, funny, and smart.
Maybe I’m trying too hard or expecting too much, looking for something that doesn’t exist.
3
Pru
The best of luck to you
“What aren’t you telling me?” Harley drops the slice onto her plate.
The bite of gooey pizza lodges in my throat, and I try not to choke. “I might need to look for a job outside the city.”
She rears back, staring at me as if I’ve confessed to committing mass murder. “You’d leave the city?”
Best friends since the first day of college, we clicked instantly. We were assigned dorm roommates, and over the first few hours of talking, we discovered we had a lot in common.
We’re both only children. Well, she has younger siblings from her mother’s second marriage, yet often, she feels like an outsider.
We both have negligent mothers who prefer to live as if their daughter doesn’t exist.
We both love music and doing our nails, although I’m clearly obsessed and hers is an intense like. And finally, we both swore we’d live and die in Manhattan.
While I love the city, my need to stay put has more to do with my childhood than living in one place or another.
“I don’t want to, but I won’t live off my trust fund. I’d go insane without work, and think of the ammunition I’d be handing Priscilla if I kick up my heels and eat bonbons all day.” My sarcasm falls flat, and her laugh is stilted.
At the mere mention of my mother, my phone rings. It’s her. We stare at the vibrating device, and a coral-covered nail hits ignore, sending Mom to voicemail.
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to her?”
“I’m sure.”
“But she knows you moved in today. She’ll keep calling.”